


The Evening Star and the Đạo Mẫu Snake

by DroughtofApathy



Series: A Thousand Lifetimes [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Culturally Accurate Dragons, F/F, Folklore, Mythology - Freeform, Origin Story, Revenge, Snakes, There's more than one kind of dragon folks, circular story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroughtofApathy/pseuds/DroughtofApathy
Summary: The gods are dying. The gods are dying and they wish they were dead. Once upon a time, there was a monster. Once upon a time, there was goddess. A woman condemned, and a woman blessed. A story repeated so many times we already know how it ends. But sit back and listen. And attend the tale of how the snake lost its legs.





	The Evening Star and the Đạo Mẫu Snake

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first tale of a series of stories revolving around the same set of characters in various universes. Not sure how many will end up open for public consumption, but I figured I'd archive them somewhere so they'd be safe.
> 
> Written as a birthday present for a friend, now the framing story to my whole series.

Scientists call it evolution;a gene named after a video game character that changed the anatomy of the serpent way back when. Christians say it is a punishment for leading the first man and woman to sin. Others believe snakes just are, and do not question it. They are all wrong. At least, according to this story.

Let me sing you a song. Let me tell you a tale. A romance. A tragedy. A story that cannot possibly have a happy ending, but we endeavor to tell it anyway. Perhaps, we justify, that maybe this time, the lovers will be allowed their happily ever after. Maybe this time, the road not taken will be traversed. It is a dismal fable from way back when. We know exactly how it must go, but though we rage, and though we sob, we open the book once more. But a thousand times, in a thousand worlds, in a thousand lives, the words dare not shift. And so, the best we can do is continue the story. The story of a goddess and her lover. A monster and her victim. A woman condemned, and a woman blessed. But who is who, and which is which. Well, that, my dear, is never clear.

Long before a serpent slithered their way into Eden. Long before Athena blessed Medusa with reptilian hair. Long before Ra arose from the many-coiled serpent, Amduat. Long before Vishnu dreamt on a bed of serpents. There was another. Another myth. Another story. Another people.

The Greeks followed Zeus, the Egyptians worshiped Amun-Ra, the Norse sang to Oden. Their gods were childish, numerous, monstrous, and benevolent. Sometimes all at once, sometimes nothing at all. Now, the gods are dying. The gods have been dying for centuries, but will never truly be dead. The gods rely on human belief to sustain their power. Without adulation, without recognition, without worship, they fade. Now, the gods wander the earth. They are among us, they are above us, they are below us. They _are_ us.

Zeus is every man who dares to stagger home drunk. He shouts insults and catcalls to wary women who clutch keys between their fingers, and hold pepper spray in their purses. He is embodied in every boss, producer, and president who makes women shiver in disgust,

Sutekh no longer causes havoc. The humans can ruin the world well enough on their own. Once relishing in destruction, he will shrink back in disgust. Instead of bathing in the complete epicaracy of the world, he mourns a simpler time. A time where chaos and confusion were an art, and the heroes worthy adversaries. Now, there is only senseless death.

Ishtar laughs bitterly at what she is. The goddess of love and fertility indeed. More a stinging insult than exaltation, her title mocks her. Love. What a damned word. Her love never brought her anything but death. Once having descended into hell itself, she knows it is nothing compared to this wrenched earth.

The gods are dying. The gods are dying but they cannot cross over. Immortality may fade, but it will not ever cease. The gods are dying, and they wish they were dead.

Well, not all of them. Ereshkigal. Batara Kala. Osiris. Kalma. Hades. The gods of the underworld. The gods of the dead. They sit in the lap of luxury. There is no shortage of death to keep them satisfied. And when the world goes to shit, the only value in this life will be the souls of the damned. They watch the miserable humans burn their world to the ground, laughing at their once-equals forced to endure with them.

Once upon a time, or so they say, a goddess fell for someone forbidden. Revolutionary. This sort of story has been done hundreds of thousands of times before. Star-crossed lovers between whiny teenagers. Socially unacceptable partners forcibly separated to placate antiquated norms. All overdone and trite. But just sit back and listen. And attend the tale of how a snake…lost her legs.

Goddesses and Gods are restricted by few rules. Nothing terribly difficult to follow. Do not fall in love with the humans – though other activities certainly skirted under the radar. Stay in the confines of your own area. Follow the prophecies. Simple really. Oh, and the most important rule of all. Do not, under _any_ circumstance, cross over into another…well, do not mingle with those who are not their own, so to speak.

And for eons, the Slavic goddess had little trouble following the golden rule. Rarely did two gods of separate…religions…ever come across each other. Some gods believed it to be because they were the only divine beings in existence. Others claimed that each faction sat just a single second out of sync with the rest. No one knew the true reason. No one knew if a true reason even existed in the first place, and no one cared.

The goddess had many names. One half of the Zorja. The dusk to her sister’s dawn. The Evening Goddess. Tasked, along with her sister, to guard the doomsday hound and protect the universe from a bloody end, Zorya Vechernyaya locked the palace gates after the sun god retired for the night. Večernya Zvezda, Zwezda Wieczernica. Gwiazda Wieczorna. Zorya. All valid. All belonging to the same goddess of the ancients.

By night, Zorya Vechernyaya attended to her duties. She returned to Dažbog's palace to allow her father to rest, before taking to the stars to grapple with a doom beast. By day, Zorya Vechernyaya roamed the earth aimlessly. With no purpose as the sun shone, she drank, danced, and feasted her way through the days. After the nights she had, she deserved it. Traipsing about the planet’s surface and consorting with the humans always did calm her nerves. Virgin goddess indeed. Zorya Vechernyaya knew how to take her pleasure without unintended consequences.

And for entire lifetimes, her routine was enough. She disguised herself in mortal form, misliking the limitations of a human body, but knowing it to be a necessary evil. The dear little humans could never withstand the glory of a goddess in her true form. Her favorite form was not, as many might expect, a dark-haired woman befit her status as an evening goddess, but rather a tall woman with flaming red hair to match the evening skies, and skin as pale as the moon.

On a fateful day, Zorya Vechernyaya wandered the earth just as she always did. If she thought it odd how few humans scampered about, she didn’t dwell on it for long. Not, that was, until she saw the frightened looks on the people of the rivers. Stopping an old crone, she asked what trouble had befallen them. The old crone stared at her with her one good eye. Then, with urgency in her voice, the old crone warned of the floods. In the season of harsh monsoons and deadly storms, they had no choice but to flee to the forests. Her daughters fled to the mountains, and her son to the villages down south. No one remained when the storm clouds blocked out the sun.

Zorya Vechernyaya thanked the old crone, but did not accept her offer to come with them. A goddess who grappled with the doom itself each night could certainly, she thought with arrogance, withstand a bit of water and lightning. She continued her trek east, over the river, and through the woods.

Foolish, she’d later think, as the raging storm hit. The monstrous waves swallowed the goddess whole, tossing her limp body as easily as a piece of driftwood. The waters carried her body farther and farther away from her usual haunts, finally washing the battered and broken goddess ashore.

Slowly, Zorya Vechernyaya rose, crying out painfully. She turned her head upwards to the sun before remembering how her human form could not handle its splendor. Time, she still had time enough to recover. For if she dared to face down the doomsday dog with anything less than her full grandeur and strength, she would be devoured. Healing, for a goddess of her status, came easily enough.

Slowly, gingerly, the goddess wandered through her new surroundings. Her homelands, so frigid and sparse, seemed universes away from this humid and lush greenery. The rain washed away the blood and dirt coating her skin. Closer to a light drizzle than a raging storm now, she barely noticed it but to be grateful it kept her somewhat cool. But the rain turned warm and sticky the deeper she went, until finally she spotted it. Like a mirage in the desert, it seemed almost too beautiful to truly exist. A clearing in the dense forest bearing a small body of water the strangest blue Zorya Vechernyaya had ever seen. Depositing the beautiful waters into the lake, a waterfall as calming as anything Zorya Vechernyaya had ever seen cascaded down the rocks.

So entranced, the goddess neglected to watch her step. The goddess tripped…sorry, the goddess _mis-stepped_. Deities do not trip, of course. Zorya Vechernyaya gasped, sprawling gracelessly across the strange terrain.

No, not the dirt, she realized as she took in the scaly surface underneath her legs. Nearly driven to shrieking like some miserable human, the Evening Star recoiled in horror and fascination. For just a moment, she locked eyes with the creature. It’s great scaly body, and clawed limbs seemed to shine in the sunlight. Deep reds and shimmering golds gave way to inky blacks that reflected bits of rainbow if looked at just right. Zorya Vechernyaya took in its fiery crest, and lithe body that gradually tapered to form a pointed tail, and she knew what creature she’d stumbled upon. A dragon.

And yet, no dragon she’d ever seen before. The dragons she knew had many heads, and great horns, and wings. A dragon without wings. Well, whoever heard of such a thing?

Then, quick as lightning, the great dragon darted into the lake, disappearing beneath the clear blue waters. Hurrying to the water’s edge, Zorya Vechernyaya peered down. But the great dragon vanished. Then a sharp splashing noise cutting through the otherwise tranquil atmosphere stole the goddess’s attention away.

A woman, smaller than any she’d ever seen before, appeared from behind the rocks. The woman wore a long black skirt, with a sash tied around her slender hips. Her bodice, a red not unlike the scales of the elusive dragon, clung to the woman like a second skin. Adorned with such heavy gold jewelry and a crown atop her head, Zorya Vechernyaya would not have been surprised if she’d inadvertently encountered a queen.

Zorya Vechernyaya cried out a warning. If the dragon lurked near, surely it would devour the small woman whole.

The woman drew closer. And Zorya Vechernyaya, the Evening Star, the Slavic goddess, felt her knees grow weak as she dropped to the ground in supplication. She did not know what came over her as she bowed to this…this _mortal_. But the woman drew her up once more, blinking at her in consideration. And the gleam in her eyes struck the Slavic goddess as so very familiar.

The woman asked Zorya Vechernyaya her name, and when the Evening Star told her, the woman’s gaze grew even more curious than before. Such a foreign name to these parts of the world. Just how far away, Zorya Vechernyaya wondered, had she been carried?

And certainly, the woman looked vastly different from the humans she knew with their long faces and light hair. The woman who stood before her had a rounder face, her hair piled atop her head a rich black. Even her eyes were shaped differently. And her skin, gods above her skin. That sort of brown could never last in Zorya Vechernyaya’s lands. Only the goddess Kupala bore this brown skin she saw. But here among the foliage and sky-blue waters, it seemed perfect.

When the woman spoke her name, Thien Y A Na Diễn Phi Chúa Ngọc Thành Phi, the Slavic goddess couldn’t help but laugh melodiously. Such, she commented as she felt a bit of her divine bravado return, a big name for such a small woman. After all, it had been quite a while since she’d laid with a woman of royal blood. But Thien Y A Na merely raised an eyebrow in response. Zorya Vechernyaya, she said in her accented voice, had already seen just how big she could truly be. Before the Slavic goddess could ask what she meant, Thien Y A Na’s form flickered and for just a moment, the grand dragon stood in her place.

Zorya Vechernyaya gasped in awe. A goddess. A Đạo Mẫu goddess certainly not Slavic in origin. That meant, but oh. Slowly, a smirk graced Zorya Vechernyaya’s features. All her divine life, she’d played by the rules of the universe. Forcing herself away from mortals who she could have easily grown to love, doing her daily duties. But here stood a goddess of a faraway world. A forbidden territory. And oh, how Zorya Vechernyaya wanted her.

Slowly, Zorya Vechernyaya drew herself up to her full human height, reintroducing herself as Zorya Vechernyaya, the Evening Star and guardian goddess of the universe. Thien Y A Na bowed at the waist, her own lips curling into a smirk. She knew just as well as the Evening Star that this meeting broke the cardinal rule of divinity.

Thien Y A Na told Zorya Vechernyaya to follow her, and together they ventured into the forest, finally coming upon a small hut made from bamboo rods and dried grasses. Graciously, Thien Y A Na invited her fellow goddess to take a seat and explain her story.

And Zorya Vechernyaya did. She told Thien Y A Na of her nightly battle with the hound, Simargl. Of her sister, Zorya Utrennyaya and their father Dažbog. But as she spoke, she realized how little she had to tell. Almost as though her story had been lost words…

But before she could stay to hear Thien Y A Na’s story, she saw the sun begin to set. Hastily, Zorya Vechernyaya took her leave, unsure how long it would take her to return to the palace. She promised to return just after dawn came again, leaving behind a token of her affection.

And just as she said, Zorya Vechernyaya came back to the hut in the forest near the waterfall. But she did not anticipate the great dragon that was Thien Y A Na shrinking back from her in surprise. As the Đạo Mẫu goddess changed into her human form, the look of uncertain reproach did not fade from her face.

Stiffly, Thien Y A Na informed the Slavic goddess she’d been gone for many moons, not merely a single night. Not to the Đạo Mẫu goddess, at least. But as Zorya Vechernyaya begged forgiveness and explained for her it truly had been just a single night, Thien Y A Na grew warmer. This time, with the whole day ahead of them, the two goddesses strolled back to that waterfall, dipping their toes in the clear water. There, Thien Y A Na began her own story.

As the story went, a young girl in a forest had been taken in by a poor couple. Eventually, she grew up to be a beautiful maiden, of course, and eventually summoned to China to marry the Emperor’s son. The story told of how she begged her parents to go, and turned into sandalwood to traverse the waters. But, Thien Y A Na said bitterly, the stories twisted and turned through the years. She’d been forcibly wed to the prince. Collared with gold, and shackled with jade, the beautiful wife drowned in jewels and knelt at the feet of her husband.

In despair and anger, the shackled woman flung herself into the sea, and weighted down by her diamonds and rubies, sunk to the ocean floor. But, transforming herself into a piece of sandalwood, she floated home to the beach of Nha Trang. There, reunited with her family, she blossomed once more.

But, furious that his wife disobeyed his orders, the prince set out to bring her back to him. Angering the Emperor of Jade, ruler of Heaven and Earth, his ship sank, and the prince perished. So, said the story. But, said Thien Y A Na, no Emperor ever came to her aid. She, a goddess in her own right, destroyed her captor by her own hand.

From that day forward, Thien Y A Na never left her homelands, instead teaching and blessing her people, and punishing all those who disrespected her. The little girl in the forest had not simply been a human child, but instead the lost daughter of Lạc Long Quân, the Dragon Lord, and Âu Cơ, the mountain fairy.

As Zorya Vechernyaya listened to the Đạo Mẫu goddess tell her tale, she felt herself longing to stay in this miniature heaven with this woman. As dusk approached that time, she left reluctantly, sharing a soft kiss with Thien Y A Na just before she took to the skies.

They did not know for how long they met in secret together. Time did not always stretch on for the Đạo Mẫu goddess alone. Sometimes Zorya Vechernyaya would return the next dawn and fine only a few hours had passed for Thien Y A Na. After a fashion, they stopped trying to make sense of it all, choosing instead to simply enjoy each other.

With little fear of a child to become a physical manifestation of their love and subsequent, the two goddesses gave in to their passion often and enthusiastically. But as time wore on, the goddesses grew careless. And while Zorya Vechernyaya would never risk the doom, she began just barely returning to the palace in time. Her father Dažbog, and her sister Zorya Utrennyaya grew worried. They no longer heard of the Evening Star’s many escapades down on Earth. Fearing her sister had fallen for a human, Zorya Utrennyaya called upon the services of Kupala, the embodiment of the mighty Sun of summer solstice and her dearest friend.

Urging Kupala to follow his daughter as she descended to earth each day, Dažbog promised her riches and status. Zorya Utrennyaya promised her a night spent together in divine bliss. And really, how could Kupala possibly refuse such tempting offers?

The sun goddess followed the Evening Star down to Earth, across unfamiliar lands to the East. There, she saw Zorya Vechernyaya locked in a passionate embrace with another woman. Cloaking herself in sunlight, Kupala watched and listened, the Slavic goddess’s gasps of pleasure echoing across the secretive oasis.

For many days, Kupala followed the Evening Star, watching and waiting. At first, the woman who so enticed her lover’s sister seemed, to Kupala, mortal. A human from a faraway land who’d caught the eye of a Slavic goddess. Then, she caught sight of it. The wingless dragon. And for the Slavic goddess of the sun, dragons meant evil lurked near. A woman who could turn into a beast. A goddess, Kupala realized in horror. A goddess of the Đạo Mẫu, and a forbidden romance worse than any human.

Kupala wasted no time, returning home to sing her song. Quickly, a council of Slavic gods assembled to discuss the punishment of consorting with gods of other…people. Zorya Utrennyaya descended from the skies, leaving the doomsday hound to her youngest and least known sister, Zorya Polounoshnaya, the Midnight Light.

Rod, the primordial God of the universe, raged when he received the news. Demanding divine retribution, he ordered the slaughter of both women who dared to upend the balance the universe possessed. Only through the persuasive words of Sudenicy, goddess of judgement and destiny, did he simmer.

Sudenicy sent Devana, goddess of hunting, Svetovid, god of war, Kupala, and Zorya Utrennyaya to collect the Evening Star and the Đạo Mẫu goddess and bring them before her. Devana fashioned a net so strong, not even a god could break from it. Svetoivid sharpened swords powerful enough to damn even an immortal to death. The four gods traveled to the East, capturing Zorya Vechernyaya and the Đạo Mẫu goddess and dragging their ensnared forms back to the goddess of judgement.

Furious at being bodily dragged before the gods, Zorya Vechernyaya screamed out in rage. She clawed at the net to no avail until Thien Y A Na slowly transformed into her dragon form, wrapping her long body protectively around her lover. Then, straining the net to its absolute limit with her considerable size, the Đạo Mẫu goddess roared, breathing fire so hot and bright, those who stood too near turned to dust. The net broke, sending the dragon and goddess tumbling to the ground.

Roaring and flailing her massive tail, Thien Y A Na sent deities careening off the cliff face. Zorya Vechernyaya, who spent her nights battling the doom, bared her teeth and summoned her swords. But despite their strength, and despite their desperation, the Slavic gods soon outnumbered them.

Zorya Utrennyaya brought her sister to the ground, shackling her to the ground. Rod, more powerful than any of them, trapped the Đạo Mẫu goddess in her dragon form as Devana and Kupala threw ropes made of the strongest fibers across her scaled body, pinning her down.

Sudenicy observed the carnage impassively.  Displeased with such a senseless display of violence, she ordered Svetoivid to lop off the limbs of the dragon and have them scattered to the four corners of the Earth. When she heard this, Zorya Vechernyaya screamed out, pleading with her fellow Slavs to spare the dragon. She wept bitter tears, but still Sudenicy’s heart did not soften. The Đạo Mẫu had knowingly and willfully committed the most grievous of crimes. As punishment, the dragon would spend the rest of her life forced to roam the Earth as a lowly snake. No longer could she be permitted to be a great and powerful dragon.

And, as Zorya Vechernyaya thrashed and screamed, Svetovid hefted his sharpened swords and brought them down in a grizzly arc. The snake’s screams mingled with her lovers, and below them on Earth, the plants withered and died. Winter had come early that year, and the humans starved.

Sudenicy cast Thien Y A Na down to earth, down to the deserts. Then, she turned her judgement on the Evening Star. For her crimes against the universe, Zorya Vechernyaya was trapped in her human form and cast down from the heavens.

Stripped of her divine powers and left among the mortals, Zorya Vechernyaya burned with rage and humiliation. She screamed to the gods, cursing their existence, and vowing revenge. And as the years passed, hatred and shame curled and twisted into the fallen goddess’s soul, until it consumed her. Swearing vengeance against the gods, against her treacherous sister for chaining her to this mortal form, Zorya Vechernyaya defiled herself and her former status. Living as a beggar among humans, she crawled across the desert, climbed over mountains, swan through frigid and infested waters, and finally walked barefoot through flames to retrieve her love’s dismembered limbs.

Mad with grief, she studied, and tortured, and killed, looking for a way to rejoin them to the body of the woman she loved. She did not notice the centuries passing. She did not know how the gods were dying. Trapped in a mortal body just as she was, they scattered across the world, wishing for an eternal slumber.

At last, the Evening Star found a way. Incantations and science came together, promising her a way. And hope, for the first time, blossomed in the fallen goddess’s heart.

She returned, limbs in hand, to the oasis. To the waterfall and the clear blue lake. And there, coiled up in near the bank of the lake, sat Thien Y A Na Diễn Phi Chúa Ngọc Thành Phi, the revered and powerful Đạo Mẫu goddess.

Falling to her knees in supplication, Zorya Vechernyaya wept tears of joy at seeing her love once more. But the snake, no longer a dragon, hissed at her threateningly. The fallen goddess didn’t understand. Breathlessly, she offered up the snake’s lost legs, explaining that she could fix her. That she could at last be whole again, and they could be together.

But Thien Y A Na merely laughed harshly, the sound sending shivers down Zorya Vechernyaya’s spine. Angrily, Thien Y A Na demanded why she had not come sooner. Had the goddess not heard her screams of agony? Had the goddess not thought of anything except her own feelings? Did she only truly love the dragon goddess when she was whole and powerful and not a weak shell forced to crawl across the dirt?

Desperately, Zorya Vechernyaya denied this. She loved Thien Y A Na no matter what form she took. But Thien Y A Na, a master of deception herself, recoiled back into a circle. Resting her head on Zorya Vechernyaya’s legs, she declared that she no longer wished to be a dragon. Finding pleasure in being a snake, she preferred her legless form.

Zorya Vechernyaya felt her rage build inside of her. Screaming out that she had dragged herself across the world, trading her pride and body to retrieve those legs, Zorya Vechernyaya raged against her love. Thien Y A Na merely laughed harshly.

This broken and selfish woman who resembled little of the loving and strong goddess she’d known did little for the powerful snake. Laughing at the state of her, Thien Y A Na cruelly demanded she truly look at herself. With her powerful tail, the snake dragged the woman to the lake’s edge, forcing her to examine her reflection in the clear water. The person staring back at her looked a sight. Filthy, exhausted, ragged.

Continuing in her mocking tone, Thien Y A Na told the shell of a woman that her state wouldn’t have mattered to her had she not thought Zorya Vechernyaya to be stronger than that. As the Slavic goddess descended to madness, clinging to the past, the Đạo Mẫu goddess thrived. A great and powerful beast of the Earth, Thien Y A Na adapted into something fearsome and powerful. And this pitiful human before her had proven herself unworthy of the love of a snake.

And Zorya Vechernyaya broke. With her only will to live crushed beneath her frail body, she slowly picked herself up. Tears of despair ran down her face as she awaited her fate. The snake regarded her closely. With a soft, but strong voice, Zorya Vechernyaya begged for her death. And though Thien Y A Na believed her undeserving of even that peace, she took pity on the woman who once held her heart.

Slowly, meticulously, the great snake coiled around the woman, and constricted her great form. Fully encased, Zorya Vechernyaya did not struggle. She did not cry, even as each and every bone in her fragile human body snapped. And as the snake at last let her broken body fall to the ground, the chains broke. Freed from her human prison, the soul of the great goddess of Dusk descended into the underworld.

And the great snake shed a tear for a lost love, for she never truly stopped loving. She left the oasis that day, never to look back at what once was, and took her place as the true king of the jungle. Looking up, she saw the brilliant sun disappear below the horizon once more. And she bowed her head to the Evening Star for the last time.

So, there you have it. I’ve sung you a song, I’ve told you a tale. A romance. A tragedy. The story of a goddess and her lover. A monster and her victim. A woman condemned, and a woman blessed. But who is who, and which is which. Have you figured it out then? No? Well, perhaps we’d better start again. And who knows, it might turn out this time.

_Scientists call it evolution_


End file.
